


Dirge

by gayonthemoon



Category: Jurassic Park, Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic World (2015), Jurassic World - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-04 04:59:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4126252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayonthemoon/pseuds/gayonthemoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A meeting between everyone's favorite raptor hunks, who have pretty opposite feelings for the animals. Takes place after the events of Jurassic World. (Was once a one-shot, is now becoming a multi-chapter exploration of events before and after Jurassic World. Lotsa raptors.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My very first fanfic, ever. I never thought it would end up being Jurassic Park, but life is strange.

The raptor gives another ear-splitting keen, and Dr. Grant immediately regrets making the trip out to the enclosure, much less this damn island. Again. But for whatever insane reason, he wants to see the place one more time, wants meet the man they said could control the raptors. Alan knows that's bullshit. You can control a velociraptor about the same way you can control a lightening storm with a kite string. A week after the park's second disaster, (again, Alan _knew_ this would happen again, companies don't learn, people don't learn) the loose dinosaurs had been contained, and Jurassic World shut down permanently. 

And now the velociraptor is back in her enclosure where she belongs, and he's looking down on it from the overhanging walkway with a mixture of respect and disdain. Owen Brady's face wears a different expression. Sadness. He's technically out of a job, but for whatever bizarre, twisted reason, he's come back to the prehistoric killing machine he's named 'Blue'. There's uncertainty about what's to be done with these animals, and both Owen and Blue are taking the events poorly. "I don't want other people touching her." he says, looking visibly upset. Alan's observed the young handler with movie-star looks, and has decided he's insane. Stupid and insane. Because who in their right mind would have willingly interacted with these creatures in the way he did, would return to look on the last surviving pack member with affection and concern. 

The animal below them hasn't quieted since Alan first arrived, circling around the enclosure in clear distress as she keens and cries. It's an eerie noise, one that's making the remaining personal on the island nervous. It's certainly unsettling for Alan, hearing these noises again. She sounds sad, almost mournful, but it makes him feel more unnerved than sympathetic. Those damn raptors. 

Blue cries out again, and Owen grimaces like he's in physical pain. "She's calling her sisters." Another long shriek is heard across the island, but nothing answers it. 

"She knows what happened to them, but they said she's been like this ever since they re-captured her. She won't eat." 

"Elephants grieve when they lose a member of their herd." Alan says slowly. "You think she's doing the same for her siblings." 

"She is." Owen says firmly, his face stormy. "Blue's a pack animal, and she's lost that." 

The raptor gives a hoarse trumpeting sound, then a soft mixture of chirps and whistles, staring directly at Owen as she vocalizes. ' _Come down here',_ she seems to be asking him, tilting her head side to side. Her handler's face softens. Blue continues her mournful chattering, low and entreating. _  
_

Owen suddenly turns to move towards the stairs, leaving Alan more than a little concerned with what the younger man is going to do. He seems the impulsive type. Dumb enough to work with raptors, after all. 

"Where are you going?"

"I've done this before. Just stay here and watch." 

"Yeah, watch you get eaten!" It's clear what the man means to do. Why he feels compelled to do it, he isn't sure. Reptiles don't want to be comforted. But Alan doesn't move, just continues watching the raptor, who is staring at the enclosure's double set of gates intently. There's no back-up for Owen, no extra security measures or men with stun guns or bullets. Nothing between man and beast. He's not keen on seeing a raptor hunt another human again, to hear this man's scream as he's eaten alive. But before anyone can do anything he's already ducking underneath the gate and entering the enclosure. Alan doesn't realize he's holding his breath. 

Blue trumpets as he approaches, tail thrashing behind her as Owen extends his arm towards the animal. She eyes it cautiously, shifting her weight.

"Steady, Blue." 

She's still now, and Owen takes another step forward. The other man thinks she looks agitated, preparing herself to strike, but Owen must be reading her differently. He takes a final step forward, letting his right hand rest lightly on the raptor's head, then the left. Alan doesn't let himself blink.

Blue lets out a low snort, trembling like a horse as Owen's fingers ghost over the animal's skin. But she allows the contact, nudging her snout into his palm before tipping her head back and keening: a long, high wail. It's enough to make Alan's skin crawl. Owen, however, looks overcome with emotion. A peculiar, inexplicable grief shared between two species that should be separated by seventy-five million years. The paleontologist shakes his head at it all, but the grip he had around the cold rounded rails has loosened slightly. Nobody is getting eaten right this second. For now, the raptor seems to content herself with circling around Owen, weaving under his arms and butting her head against him as her cries. It's incredible. The man continues to touch Blue, making low, soothing sounds in his throat as he does.

"I know, Blue. I know. My poor girl."

At the sound of his voice, the raptor trills softly, like a cat. It would be cute, if Alan didn't know that felines often imitate the birds that they are stalking, a form of prey mimicking. Owen might not be the bird in this situation, but he's certainly not in a cage with a household pet. He seems aware of this, despite the moment the two are sharing, not once taking his eyes of the animal. His posture is non-threatening, but alert, tracking Blue's movements with both concern and caution. It's a difficult tightrope to walk, Alan thinks, trying to show affection and authority with a creature that could shred him like a rag doll. He hasn't experienced these animals the way he has. Or maybe he has, but his paternal affection for this animal is stronger than the fear. It's stupid. Admirable in a way, and probably heartwarming to some idiot who didn't know better, but completely stupid. Bond or no, you would never catch him face to face with a raptor again. It's bad enough just seeing one in person. 

Blue's lament is quieting now, settling into low, long snorts. Owen runs his hand down her side, face mournful. "It's alright, girl." It's a lot of sympathy for an animal who might kill him for making a wrong move. 

He knows its a wild animal, an animal that operates on vicious instinct, not domesticated affection. But he still can't help but wonder at what he's just witnessed. Is it like those people who work with wolf packs and lion prides in the wild, who slowly familiarize themselves with these predators and insert themselves into the group's dynamics? He can think of quite of few of those people who've ended up dead, killed by the animals they claimed to be close to. Owen might regard their relationship differently. He said that they saved his life, defended him against a much larger, apex predator. Maybe they did.

Now that Blue has quieted and is sniffing at something in her enclosure, Owen begins to cautiously makes his way towards the gate. Alan has seen firsthand how fast raptors are, so its more of a matter of Blue allowing him to leave than him actually sneaking out. The handler's made his way out of the enclosure safely, and is walking back up to the stairs, watching Alan's expression as he approaches. 

"So, what did you think?" 

"I was wrong about you." Owen's eyebrow's raise cautiously in surprise. "I was wrong, because you're even stupider than I thought." 

The younger man shrugs and gives him a tight-lipped smirk. "Wouldn't be the first time I've heard that, Dr. Grant. And I guess I can't really blame you either." Both of the men huff in quiet laughter. Alan would like Owen as a person, if he weren't such a bone-headed idiot doing such bone-headed things. Playing with things that aren't meant to be played with. 

"It's nothing like I've ever seen. Or imagined. You raised her from infancy?" 

Owen nods in affirmation, and Alan doesn't miss the faint look of affection that crosses his face when he turns to watch Blue down below. _Misplaced_ affection, he thinks. "I raised her and all of her sisters since they were hatchlings, spent as much time with them as possible." 

"Imprinting." 

Alan catches the cold, intelligent stare from Blue, and he knows no matter what he just witnessed with her and Owen, this is still a creature exactly like the ones that hunted and terrorized him in the first park. They haven't domesticated these dinosaurs one bit, no matter how how much these corporations try to play god in their labs. If he, or anyone else tried to attempt what the younger men had done, Blue would have gladly made them her next meal. Torn and gutted him without a moment's hesitation. He finds the raptor's still watching him. He meets the animal's stare, but he's grateful for the distance (and the fences) between them. Blue lifts her lips in a low snarl at Alan, revealing an intimidating row of incisors. Just as many teeth as he remembers.

Owen chuckles morbidly, and Blue's attention is back on her alpha. The younger man leans over the rail (Grant wants to reach over and haul him back), making a series of whistles and nonsense noises at his charge, who keeps tilting her head at him like a confused parrot. Owen mirrors Blue's movement, and soon the pair are cocking their heads at one another in an unsettling game of mimicry. Alan doesn't think it's funny, and he sure doesn't know what the raptor thinks of this, but Owen is laughing and smiling in that casual way of his, like he's playing patty-cake with a baby. 

"You didn't know how right you were when you wrote that book, Dr. Grant. They're just like birds." Owen chuckles. 

"Difference is I actually like birds. Birds normally don't try to tear my throat out." 

He likes birds. He _respects_ dinosaurs, in the way that you do a storm or any other natural disaster. With admiration and distance. Lots of distance. 

Blue snarls at Alan again, who watches the raptor grimly. Just as many teeth. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's raining, it's pouring, the dinosaur is roaring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Owen's perspective. I never thought I'd enjoy his character so much? To me he felt so much more mutli-dimensional than I anticipated, so kudos to the film for that! Also a huge thank you to all the positive feedback I've received, without it I honestly don't think I'd continue this, because I've never pictured myself writing fic.

The fact that he's sitting next to a bucket of dead rats is a good indicator of how Owen's night is going. The clouds rolling above his head are dark and swollen with rain, and the usual background chatter of the island's many birds and insects are silent at the threat of the oncoming monsoon. Blue is somewhere in the foliage underneath, curious about his late visit. He can't sleep. Corporate (those bloodsucking leeches) had wasted no time inquiring about the condition of their "assets", especially their sole surviving raptor. It's been less than two weeks since people, real people, had died, and all they can think about is profit margins and corporate investments. Owen's surprised he remained as civil as he did during the whole ordeal (meaning nobody got punched). However, he'd had plenty of choice words for the board members, the majority of them being of the four-lettered variety.

" _How about you assclowns pull your damn heads out of your butts and realize what you did wrong the first time, before asking me a fucking question like that."_

_"What the hell is this, Sea World?"_

_"Look, I'm sorry, but what moron decided to put you in a position of power? I'm genuinely confused here, because the amount of stupidity on display here is staggering."_

Insolence comes too easy for him. Owen has to remind himself in moments like this that it's not about how he feels, it's about Blue's welfare. This gaggle of assholes were flying out to review Blue's condition (translation: profitability) very soon, whether Owen was on board or not with it or not. 

Letting other people handle her is out of the question. He's lost all but one of his girls, he's not letting another soul so much as look at her, especially in her current condition. At least she eats some now, when Owen's around and the men in heavy boots with guns aren't there to make her hiss and snarl. 

She's distrustful, and gun-shy, and all around not okay, which makes sense because Owen sure as hell isn't. Okay. A funny word that implies a state of neutral existence, because things aren't great, but they aren't terribly shitty. Except when they are and he knows that the two of them are still limping away from this ordeal with more than a few invisible scars. Which is why he's seated out here underneath a brewing storm in a pair of old sweatpants, singing to himself and wondering what he's going to have to do to help the both of them and appease the powers that be. 

"... _And my heart never beat like it does at the sight, of you baby blue, god-"_ Blue must not think much of his singing, because there's a dismissive snort from the bushes that could be interpreted as condescending. 

He can tell already that she's going to be difficult. Time to get to work. 

When Owen was seventeen he spent the summer mucking stalls and exercising horses at a stable close to his mother's house. He'd work with the most high-strung horses on foot in a round pen, training until the animals became calm and responsive to his commands. It's not so different to what he he's doing now with Blue, who's being purposefully difficult, and radiates hostile energy. She balks at the simplest commands, hissing and snapping in protest as Owen chastises her from above. 

"Hey,  _watch it_ , Blue. The sooner you listen, the sooner you get this rat." 

She snarls at that too, and clicks her sickle claw in impatience, blatantly ignoring his cue. Owen is frustrated, but the number one thing he's learned with his time with animals is not to act on frustration. The animals can sense his frustration, easily, but they don't often understand  _why_. Acting out in anger would be a betrayal of trust, and the both of them are already upset. Training like this is how painful memories resurface. He remembers the way Charlie would unknowingly whack her sisters with her tail while they trained, big and ungraceful on her feet. How Echo would grumble and snap when that would happen, hissing in irritation at her youngest sibling while Owen fought to keep his face serious. But they aren't here now. They're all gone and he couldn't protect them like he should have and it's his fau- _no_. Owen takes a centering breath. No. He won't let those emotions bleed into Blue. (Is she thinking about them too?) He's supposed to be the alpha here, and the alpha is strong. 

The alpha was _supposed to be_ strong. 

If Owen were back at the stables he would know what to, it would be so simple. He'd ride and patiently switch directions until the horse was light in his hands and on the bit. Responsive and relaxed. But Blue isn't a herbivore he can domesticate. Blue is all muscle and predatory instinct, sharp intelligence and potential energy and bared teeth. You can't force her to do anything. So he looks for natural behaviors to respond to and encourage instead. Positive reinforcement. The others before him thought that maybe shock collars or something similar would work, that pain could force an animal like this into behaving. Punishment-oriented training. But that's exactly why they had failed. That's why they had failed and Owen was still here, standing in his socks in a freezing downpour as a previously-extinct dinosaur looks up at him appraisingly. 

"Alright, look alive! Eyes up!"  

Blue finally begins to respond to him, so Owen tosses a rat, making sure to tell her what a good girl she's being. After that things get easier. There's plenty of growling on Blue's part, but she responds to commands quicker and is noticeably less hostile. For a raptor, at least. Owen makes her work at it until he's satisfied with both of their performances, which is precisely when the storm begins to pick up.

There's a sudden crack of lightening, and he's lost her attention. They're in Central America, there are coastal storms all the time, but Blue has never been fond of them. She watches the sky with an observant wariness as Owen struggles to keep both of them focused. 

"Blue, on me!"  

More lightening.

And then suddenly it's 10 months ago in his trailer, it's still raining, but Blue is much smaller and things are much different. 

* * *

  _The dinosaur inside his trailer is tiny, and could probably fit inside the box of Frosted Flakes that's lying haphazardly askew on his dining table. The island is caught up in a monstrous storm, bigger than usual and Blue's first, which is why Owen decides to smuggle her into his home for the night. He spends as much time as possible with the young raptor during these formative months, insistent that he becomes a familiar presence in her life no matter what corporate's rules are. And while he hasn't read any official rulebooks lately, he's sure this wouldn't be allowed._

_"It'll be an interspecies sleepover." He tells her cheerily._

_Blue gives an unconvincing hiss from atop his cluttered table, as if to challenge the storm that is currently causing the trailer to sway and shake precariously. Then there's another loud crack of thunder, and her brave front quickly disappears when she moves to takes refuge behind the legs of a chair. Owen laughs around his mouthful of cereal._

_"Oh Blue, don't tell me you're scared, little lady."_

_She gives a weak croak, and Owen scoots forward pluck her out from under the table. Her claws bite into his knuckles and her whip-like tail thrashes angrily against his bare arm, but when he pulls Blue against his chest she quickly quiets down._

_"Oh, are they gonna be pissed when they find out I took you in here with me. I don't think i'm supposed to bring million-dollar science experiments into my scrap metal trailer."_

_Blue doesn't comment on the state of his living conditions, just continues her silent watch of the chaos going on outside the trailer's window. Her and Owen are breathing in tandem now, and he can feel her rest her head against the hollow of his neck, very close to his exposed throat. Their chests rise and fall together. Owen inhales slowly and he gets a whiff of Blue's very distinctive scent. Wood chips, moss, and the humid, heavy smell of earth. It's pungent and strong, but it's not a bad smell, Owen thinks to himself. It's natural, a reminder of where Blue really belongs, somewhere green and growing and alive. So unlike the sharp, sterile lab where she was hatched._

_Blue sniffs him in turn, and it's only a little unnerving the way she nuzzles her snout along his throat, tracing alongside the heat of his artery. Now the raptor's making soft, familiar cries that Owen hears almost every day, so he bounces Blue in his arms and ducks his head to look at her small form._

_"What's that? What are you talking about, baby Blue? You're not scared anymore, are you?"_

_She's less than a month old and Owen already understands most of her vocalizations. Hoarse barks mean irritation and impatience. Chirps are meant to be conversational, a sign she's looking for mother/father/caretaker to respond and pay her some attention. And high, eerie keens are what Blue makes right before she pounces. The rest of the staff claims it all sounds the same at this age. They couldn't be more wrong. She's got a whole language of her own, and she's talking loudly and often, hoping one of the soft, squishy meatsacks understands her._

_After a while the storm seems less impressive to the young raptor, who wiggles out of his arms and hops on the windowsill to puff herself up intimidatingly. Owen rolls his eyes at the display._

_"Yeah, very impressive. So much for our moment."_

_He's comfortable on the floor but he gets up anyway, seating himself next to the window to observe the storm with the now much bolder dinosaur. The rain lashes against the glass, muted and soft, while Blue eyes the water droplets with fascination. The sound is almost soothing. shushshushushshush. The night grows older and Owen's eyelids get heavier, so when Blue curls herself up around the warmth of his neck, he doesn't try to fight the pull of sleep._

* * *

Owen's mind is back in the present and the sky is dumping rain now, drenching the two of them as streaks of lightening illuminate their motionless figures. He gives Blue the command signaling her release and sits himself down on the scaffolding, head dizzy. But Blue hasn't moved, and soon Owen finds himself lying flat on his stomach, staring down in earnest at the creature below him. Does she remember like he does? Can Blue retain emotional memories like a person can, or is he projecting in the way humans so often do? But she's smart. Blue's so smart, he can see it clearly in her eyes. Owen blinks, and tries not to confuse intelligence for emotion.

The raptor has positioned herself silently underneath the walkway, and Owen wonders if she's going to jump and snap to startle him. But she just stares and stares, blinking around the fat water drops that slide down the grooves of her scales.

The rain smells nice, Owen tells himself. It smells clean. Clean compared to the smell of blood and gasoline that stung his nose when he hid under the truck, the nauseating smell of seared flesh when Delta is killed, clean compared to th-He shuts his eyes, trying cut off that train of thought before it sweeps him away. Before it hurts him more.There's a familiar, hollow ache in his chest that he isn't sure how to fix or what to do with, so he continues to lie on the scaffolding, shivering in the rain and thunder. Owen knows he probably looks like an idiot. He also knows he asking for a wicked cold the next day, but he can't seem to bring himself to move. 

Blue is so quiet he almost forgets she's there. 

Intrusive thoughts are called intrusive for a reason, because now he's thinking about the things that scare him. Remembering how Claire's body had shook when the Indominous had sniffed at them next to the Jeep.The way blood smells to him now, like salt and hot copper and death. Flapping, membranous wings. But most chilling of all, the sinking feeling of terror he'd felt when his girls had turned their heads to him after communicating with their new alpha. When they fixed Owen with that cold, reptilian stare, and he'd realized what had changed.

His fingers hook through the gaps of the walkway, tightening painfully around cold metal. He squeezes until his joints are white and the pads of his fingers are red, like doing this can match the pain Owen is feeling inside and distract him. 

"What am I even doing?" 

He isn't really expecting a response, but Blue gives a soft croak that's almost lost in the howling of the wind. Immediately after, she disappears into the shelter of the trees, leaving Owen alone with his thoughts and the storm. Silly human. The rain hasn't stopped by the time he makes it back to his trailer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the wonderful responses I received for this! Comments are always appreciated and stay tuned for the next chapter, because I think it's due time a certain red-head made an appearance :)))
> 
> (Also! About Blue being the sole lil dino in his trailer-I know that canonically Charlie is the youngest, and I always thought that meant more than she was the last to hatch. I like to think Blue is slightly older and from a different clutch of eggs, though the four were raised and trained together for the good majority of their lives.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The attention swings around on everyone's favorite redhead. I couldn't not write about Claire, she deserves so much better.

The storm from yesterday has gentled into a steady drizzle, thrumming pleasantly on the roof of Owen's bungalow as he fiddles with his computer screen. For two people separated by thousands of miles and more than a few timezones, Skype had proved a godsend. (As fickle as the damn app was) When Owen had said to Claire and he should stick together, he had meant it. (It was easier, when they had each other to lean on) 

But the two of them were busy, passionate people swept up in the fallout of a nationally-televised disaster, so down time in each other's company came few and far between.

Neither of them had it easy. Owen was wrangling dinosaurs, while Claire dealt with blood-thirsty sharks in five-thousand dollar suits. But they sneak what moments they can, and the conversations shared between screens are almost as good as the real thing. It's all they can get until the mess is settled. But they've made it work.

So far today Skype hasn't flaked out on them, but Owen almost wishes it would, as Claire is currently using their time together to chastise him for his wardrobe choices.

(Even he knows wardrobe is a generous word)

"Would it kill you to put on some pants? Especially since it's well after noon. Join the civilized world." 

Owen snorts."Civilized has got nothing to do with it. It's ninety-three degrees out. And _humid._ It's like a men's locker room, everyone's all sweaty and stewing in their o-"

"Okay! That's enough, thank you. Mental picture received." 

Claire's wrinkling her nose now, wearing an expression that's supposed to convey her disgust and disapproval, but Owen can't help but find it cute. Not that he was stupid enough to tell _her_ that. It could come across as patronizing, and despite his recklessness, he doesn't have an actual death wish.  

"Your lack of pants aside, I need to tell you that the date of the visit has been pushed up. Corporate is eager to get the ball rolling as soon as they can, and a park-wide evaluation is the first step." She pauses, curling her fingers around her cup of coffee. "I'm supposed to come too."

His eyebrows shoot up. "There's the silver lining I was looking for! Someone on my side." 

Claire gives him a grudging smile. "We need to be professiona-" 

"You can 'evaluate' me on the things that are _really_ important." Owen waggles his eyebrows at Claire, who receives the gesture with long-suffering silence. "...Like the shape of my ass." There's a loud huff of irritation coming from his screen, but he thinks he can see the suppressed lines of a smile pulling at the corner's of her mouth. Maybe. It's either a smile or a grimace. 

"Yes, I'll be sure compare my notes about your ass with the most prominent and influential CEOs of our time, all of whom have a direct say in the future of this company and our careers."

"You took notes?" 

Claire's face becomes dangerously blank, so out of respect for his own survival instincts, he switches topics quickly. 

"I'm glad you're coming Claire, really. It seems like it's been longer than it has." He gives her a crooked smile, but his voice is earnest. "I've missed you." 

She softens at that, reaching to tuck her copper-red hair smoothly behind her ear. His connection is poor and neither of them are under flattering lighting, but not even his grainy screen resolution can diminish Claire's beauty. It's not the look of a subtle, unassuming woman. Not Claire. She's impossible to ignore, with her crisp, precise bob, and angled cheekbones that lend well to her usual no-nonsense expression. Strong, just like her. 

"Mmmm. Me too. I just wish it were under less stressful circumstances." 

"When it's over we can ditch those clowns and sneak off, just the two of us. A secluded beach, some nice wine, _no tequila_ and no worries."

She doesn't strike Owen as someone game for any type of date that takes place outdoors, so he's a bit surprised when he sees her lips turn up in a small, but wistful smile. 

"That might be nice, assuming I can get away-"

"I'll kidnap you."

"I'm sure that would work well. Look, I've got to prep for another meeting in an hour, I'll talk to you soon?"

It's a shorter chat than Owen would have liked, but he understands the scrutiny Claire is facing, and her need to plan for these witch-hunts posing as company meetings. At least when a dinosaur plans to bite your head off, you know. These CEOs are not as kind.

"I'll let you get back to your business, while I get back to mine. Business that involves _not_ putting on pants." He pronounces the last word like it's personally offensive to him, unable to resist the dig. 

Claire's exaggerated eye-roll is the last thing he see's before the screen turns black. 

* * *

It's her fourth meeting in five days, and Claire is feeling less like an employee of a powerful company and more like a chew toy. She think's it's a wonder they still haven't fired her yet. Firing her would almost be kinder than this. 

"Your title was Park Operations Manager, was it not? It's your responsibility to-" 

"The board can't be held liable for the events that took place, now matter what was authorized for the Indominous project."

"-you're in an expendable position, Ms. Dearing, perhaps you should-" 

"Nobody is going to know about Indominous, and the park is going to have a future, with or without you. The situation is currently under control." 

The accusations, the pointed glances, it's just too much. Too much. Indignant and snappish, the old Claire rears her head, sick of the blame and the guilt that comes with it. She didn't create the monster. 

"For now. I agree that the situation-though far from ideal- is salvageable. This, however, is entirely dependent on your employee's willingness to cooperate. The guests and the media know only about the attack from the aviary. Your corporate sponsors are willing to keep quiet, but if news about Indominous and the full details of the aviary breach somehow reach the public, the future of this park will be non-existent." Claire pauses, turning her head to make eye contact with each of the board members. Her expression is hard, and her accusers look taken back.

She isn't groveling for her job, or apologizing profusely for the mistakes of others. Claire was through with that.

"Your contracts and your strong-arming can only protect you so much. Real people died, because of what happened. Employees. Children. People with families. Blaming others for your mistakes is only going to earn you more lawsuits and more public outrage, neither of which you need more of. You'll run this company into the ground." Complete silence. Her shoulders are squared, and every eye is on her. "What if security footage is leaked? What if someone speaks out? It would destroy everything this company has worked for. All the advances that have been made. I've accepted my responsibility in this, and I would suggest you do the same." 

The rest of their meeting is brief, and Claire feels a small surge of pleasure at how the board members have adopted a much more complaint attitude after her firm response. They were quieter. Less wiling to make eye-contact. But while this meeting could be counted as a victory, she knows much of the future hinges on the visit to Isla Nublar, and her continued handling of the fallout. Still, she'd made her point. She wasn't expendable.They wouldn't bury her for this, not after how hard she had worked. 

Her retaliation had been unexpected, but it was a cut-throat industry, and they _had_ wanted a mean bitch for the job, after all. Someone capable. Firm. Ruthless. So that's what they were getting. 

Claire walks out of the room with her head high and her eyes hard, heels clacking loudly against the cold marble. There's the low thrum of an oncoming migraine beating against her skull, but there's also a smug sense of victory present, too. And relief. She'd be lying if she said hadn't been worrying about the meeting. 

She slides into the seat of her car, rubbing at her temples and contemplating another caffeine run. At this point, coffee is only a temporary fix. What she really needs is a _nap_. As tempting as that sounds, Claire knows she'll be lucky if she gets an hour of undisturbed sleep. Gone are her solid seven hours. Nowadays, the nightmares are relentless.  Her dreams are filled with the stench of hot blood (It smells like salt and copper, copper like her red hair), and all she can hear is the hollow drumming of wings and the screams of her nephews. In her dreams, she's too late to save them. Her steps falter as the T-Rex follows behind, jaws open and roaring. Each time she isn't fast enough, isn't good enough, and each time she lets them down. Zach and Gray stare at her, bodies mangled and eyes accusing. 

Claire screws her eyes shut. This won't rule her. She has things to do, companies and careers to save. She doesn't have time to let her nightmares consume her, not when she's been fighting tooth and nail to stay afloat. She can see a therapist later. She can deal with her problems later. It's the same tired mantra she's been repeating for a while now, but it works. (To an extent.) 

She's exhausted and worn down, running on fumes. These last few weeks have not been kind to her. 

But at least now she feels in control. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait! I've been painting rooms and moving things and basically doing all sorts of manual labor that lends to a very tired writer with little time for writing. I also was feeling kind of discouraged with this chapter, so typing it out proved more difficult than the last ones. But! My schedule has evened out more, however, so updates should come much more frequently. Thank you all again for the tremendous support I've received! As usual, comments and feedback are very much appreciated. (Next chapter will feature more raptors, I promise. Dinosaurs up the wazoo.)

**Author's Note:**

> I might write more of this? Or something similar. I'll see how my muse behaves. Comments are always appreciated, of course.


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